


Takes A Thief

by WeasleyWench



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: "dub con", Anal, EWE, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, M/M, NSFW Art, OCs - Freeform, Oral, Original Character(s), Sex, artwork: mad1492, magical thievery of someone’s mind and actions, slightly creepy (according one of my betas), somewhat dark!fic, very slightly PWP (if you squint)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeasleyWench/pseuds/WeasleyWench
Summary: “Thieves respect property. They merely wish the property to become their property that they may more perfectly respect it.” – Gilbert K. ChestertonOnly someone envious enough of another’s life can trulytryto steal it – for a moment. Draco, as it turns out, doesn’t like when said thief tries to steal his life, his partner, his lover.





	Takes A Thief

**Author's notes:** So, I had fun writing this. I haven’t touched H/D in a long time – ten years or more. This is testing a new style of writing, and to dust off my writing shoes a bit. Thanks for reading and commenting! Many thanks to my alphas and betas! You guys were awesome for giving me a nudge.

**Takes a Thief**

> “Man is not, by nature, deserving of all that he wants. When we think that we are automatically entitled to something, that is when we start walking all over others to get it.”  
>  ― Criss Jami, Diotima, Battery, Electric Personality

Harry smiled. “Hey, come here.”

“Potter, I’m working on a wand.”

“I know. C’mere.”

“Potter,” Draco chided.

“Oi,” Harry said, rising from the well-used sofa in Draco’s workshop and approaching him from behind. He rested his hands on Draco’s thin hips. The muscle and sinew beneath his fingers felt like heaven. It seemed like ages since he’d had an opportunity to touch Draco this way. He craved it the way Draco craved perfection in his creations. “You know it turns me on when you’re working.” Harry tightened his hold and rubbed his cock against Draco’s arse. Not that he was hard yet, he just liked touching, feeling, the ribs, the curves, the movement of skin under his fingertips. Draco’s body was a playground for Harry, one he enjoyed teasing and tormenting until he ached. There was no begging, just the primal need in his eyes, the taut lines of his body. 

Draco shifted, but didn’t pull away. He tutted. “I need to finish this.”

“You can _work_ later…” Harry chuckled and rose up to kiss the nape of Draco’s exposed neck. “I love you,” he whispered. “Please, Draco.”

Draco sniffed. “Do not think that your openly emotional pleas will make me stop what I’m doing.”

“But, Draco, it’s been ages. We’ve _been_ working.” Harry slid his hand around the front of Draco’s trousers and tugged at the old-fashioned strings. His preferred choice of wizarding clothing left something to be desired in Harry’s mind, but the man still wore it like a king, and Harry wanted this one to spread his legs on the work bench so Harry could suck his cock, work him up until he was ready to come, and then stop, fuck him, and share in the pleasure of their bodies in sync. He couldn’t wait to feel the way Draco’s thighs tightened and he relaxed in increments… Harry stopped rubbing against Draco for a moment. He didn't feel quite like himself.

“Yes?” Draco asked.

“I’m ’right.”

“I didn’t say you should stop.” Draco stood like a statue on guard. 

“Mm. Turn around.” Not that Draco needed help, but Harry wanted to taste his lips and mouth like a feast. 

“Giving orders, now?”

“Shut it. Just turn around.”

Instruments settled on the worktop in the delicate way Draco handled his toys. There was a clatter, then Harry felt the twist of Draco’s hips in his hands, his body travelling behind like a slow-motion film. Draco did this sometimes: played hard to get, and hypnotised Harry with the way he moved. Not serpentine or cliched, but like a man who knew what he wanted and regarded the situation with thought, pulling out the desire in Harry like tinder and wood finally bursting into flame. Harry appreciated it. He got to touch, got to feel the vibrations of breath and heartbeat as Draco’s body reacted. Harry leaned back just enough to let Draco’s elbow and chest complete the rotation. Chest met chest. 

Harry pressed his lips against Draco’s, lingering like a sweet beneath the tongue, waiting for Draco to open his mouth. Harry gave in first. The single, gentle touch of lips for more than a breath wasn’t enough; he needed to feel the slick pleasure of Draco’s tongue weaving against his. But Draco made him wait. Even when Harry bit Draco’s bottom lip and thrust his tongue into Draco’s mouth, only a smile met him. Harry groaned. He turned his attention towards the shirt Draco wore. He pulled it loose from the confines of his trousers and ran his hands across Draco’s lithe stomach, taking in each ridge of muscle. He stopped before getting too high and rested a hand flat against Draco's abdomen. He stroked Draco’s centreline with his thumb, the ache in his cock becoming stronger. 

The rise of skin beneath his thumb was like braille. Harry couldn’t breathe. Draco’s mouth met his, lips parting on cue to the tempo only Draco knew. It wouldn’t be long, and Harry would be able to do whatever he wanted, touch as much as he wanted. Draco’s tongue danced around his, drawing a moan from his lips. He loved the push and pull. They worked together like a rope and anchor for a ship, one holding the other in place, stability. As one gave, the other received in equal measure, checks and balances. There was equality, even in Draco’s decision to let Harry shag him. There wasn’t a place they didn’t go together in the bedroom, workroom, office… wherever their escapades took place. There was always something new to learn, something new to explore. Something secret for Harry to learn about the way Draco reacted to his touch, his mouth. Harry moaned again, reluctant to move his palm from the flat of Draco’s abdomen, but he took hold of Draco’s hips and pulled their bodies closer. Draco took Harry’s tongue between his lips and sucked it. Harry’s grip went limp; his breath hitched. There was nothing like feeling sex between their mouths, even though they weren’t naked, shagging, and they were barely touching. 

Draco inhaled. Harry’s eyes closed and rolled back. Involuntary and out of ecstasy, Harry caved. He did his best to kiss Draco back, but it was like fighting against the winds of a storm. Again he gave up. He let Draco lead them, and Harry fell into the kiss. Let the kiss lead his hands where they wanted to go. He pushed at the hem of Draco’s shirt until it was bunched up under his arms. Draco finally released him and let the fabric creep over his head like a ghost. Harry pulled it over his head and couldn’t help fixing the mussed pale hair as he passed it by. He smiled. Draco’s lips quirked. Harry placed his hand over Draco’s heart and felt the _thump, thump, thump, thump_ beneath his touch. He was sure his own heart would crash into Draco’s chest if he didn’t get to touch the man properly; tight, his way of showing Draco owned him, and that he owned Draco. Hell, he reckoned the blowjob he was about to give to Draco was as close as it was going to get. They owned each other. Harry pushed Draco against the worktop and sank to his knees. He untied the encumbering trousers and let them drop to Draco’s ankles. Harry inhaled. He loved the sweet, musky scent of Draco after a day at work, like sweat and soap, still mingling together. Draco’s cock stood erect and red, glistening at the slit in the head of his penis. Harry took the base of Draco’s erection with one hand and slid his mouth down, until he couldn’t go any further. He was no deep throat, but Draco never complained, not with the stroke of his hand and the bob of his head down the shaft. Harry hummed, content. Draco’s cock filled his mouth, and he was hungry for it. It was just foreplay, but Draco humoured Harry. He flexed and Harry loved the feeling in his mouth when it felt like Draco grew larger, if only for a moment, then again. 

With his free hand, Harry roamed Draco’s chest, squeezing and pinching the soft skin. It was like satin, smooth and succulent to Harry's hands. He couldn't control the hungered groping across the pale skin like a starved man. Finally, he flattened his palm against Draco’s chest, roaming around his features, and stopped at Draco's hardened nipple. He squeezed it between his calloused fingers. A groan came from above him. Harry hollowed his cheeks and stroked Draco’s cock while sucking, up and down, until he drew another sound from Draco. It was rare to hear, but like a quill to paper when Harry felt it, so smooth and leaving a mark across his skin. Simple and yet complex in his desire for more. There was a body for him to explore, but he had to remember to make sure Draco enjoyed their games, too. And Draco liked it when Harry took him from behind. He never said it, but Draco didn’t say those things. It was too… emotional, too personal. Harry knew, though. It was like Draco could be himself if Harry couldn’t see his pleasure, even though they gave it to one another. 

Harry moaned. He bobbed his head, moving his hand down Draco’s front, down to his thighs. They were getting tight, hard to the touch like a sack of flour. Draco was strong, stronger than given credit for his lithe frame. At times, he was malleable as clay. Other times, he was hard to contain. All he had to say were the right words, and Harry would come. It was a heady feeling. And Harry ached to feel more of Draco's body.

He licked Draco's cock with the flat of his tongue. He drew a stripe from where his hand met mouth up, until he reached the head of Draco's cock, tasting salty pre-come. Harry knew if he kept going, Draco would come, and they’d trade blowjobs, but Harry hadn’t had a chance to be inside Draco in weeks. The last few times had been quick frotting sessions against the office door when everyone had left (except for Hermione), and a few blowjobs. He needed to touch him, needed to be inside him. He ached to feel the way Draco's body rippled and twisted with Harry's cock inside him.

“Mm. Ready to turn around?” Harry squeezed Draco’s cock and thigh. Another quirk of Draco’s lips, and Harry knew he wanted it. As Draco turned around, Harry followed the movement of his body like a trail on a map. He took a moment to admire as Draco placed his palms firmly on the worktop and positioned his arse on display. Harry hummed, appreciating that view more than any of the seven wonders of the world. 

Harry pulled the bottle of lube out of his jeans’ pocket and poured it on his fingers. Draco seemed to shake his arse, but Harry knew it was his imagination. He slid his fingers between Draco’s arse cheeks and ran the lube around the rim of his arsehole. The rippled skin and muscle flexed under Harry’s touch. Harry loved the feeling. He loved even more how it felt when the ring of muscle surrounded his fingers, his cock. He pushed his fingers inside Draco and heard the hitch of breath. Harry stroked the inner walls of Draco’s body, spreading the lube as much as he could. It felt like one of the softest things Harry had ever touched, his wet, slippery fingers inside Draco, stroking back and forth. Harry moaned. “You ready?”

“Yes,” Draco replied.

A shiver ran down Harry’s spine. He removed his fingers and watched Draco’s arsehole tighten again, wanting to bury his tongue in there. Instead, he took the lube and poured it on his cock. Draco shifted, his body spreading further. Harry placed one hand on Draco’s naked hip, and angled his cock with his other hand. He pressed, but didn’t rush, until he felt Draco open for him. His cock slid in so fast, he groaned. Harry buried himself inside Draco and held his hip steady, taking the other with his free hand. 

“Draco,” Harry whispered like a priest begging for knowledge of God. “You feel so good around me.”

“Shut it.” Draco’s breath hitched. “Do it, already.”

Harry pitched his hips and thrust. They both moaned. Harry tightened his grip on Draco’s hips, feeling the ridge of bone beneath his fingers. His body was tight, lithe. Harry thrust again. Being inside Draco always felt good. Harry loved the pulsing tightness around his cock. It was gentle at first, but as Draco got closer to coming, he tightened more. Harry got lost in the haze of pumping his hips back and forth, changing the angle, going slow, then fast. Draco reacted in kind. He arched his back and pressed against Harry on every thrust. There was the slapping of skin and balls on Draco’s arse, the squish of lube between them.

Harry couldn’t breathe. He was hot. He reached around and took Draco’s half-hard cock in his fist and began to stroke it. It got hard quickly. Draco said something muffled into his arm. Harry alternated thrusting and stroking Draco’s cock. He moaned. Warmth spread through him, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. Harry ran his hand up Draco’s naked back, aching to feel his muscles shift beneath his touch. Pleasure roared through his body. He moaned, bucked his hips, every muscle tense, as he felt the lightning-like surge of his orgasm. Harry moaned again, jerking Draco’s cock as he shot come deep inside him He felt the clamp of Draco’s arse around him. He moaned again, breathing deeply. He continued thrusting and stroking Draco’s cock. Then he felt the dribble of come down his hand. Draco’s body shook, and he cried out.

Heavy breathing filled the room. Harry’s sticky hand rested on Draco’s cock, his own softening cock stuffed inside Draco. He released his hold, but didn’t shift to release his cock yet. He loved the feeling of come surrounding his cock, the heat of Draco’s body, the throbbing around him.

“Sorry. I knew I wouldn’t... last long,” Harry said, sucking in air.

“Potter.” It was gentle.

“Mm. I know.”

Harry let go of Draco’s cock and removed his from Draco. Semen slipped out and down Draco’s leg. It was one of Harry’s favourite sights: Draco completely debauched. 

Harry leaned over Draco’s back and whispered, “I love you.” He didn’t know if Draco heard it over the pounding of his own heart and breathing, but Harry didn’t care. Draco knew how he felt.

+++++

“Morning.”

“That it is,” Draco said.

Harry yawned and stretched. “Had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, we were in the workshop—”

“That was no dream,” Draco said.

“Hmm?” Harry reached out and ran his hand down Draco’s naked back. _How could it not have been a dream?_

“It was no dream. We shagged.”

Harry blinked. “No, you were working…” He tried to form a thought. “But… no. We were completing the case report for the Nargle that got loose in the library. You had to submit your paperwork to the Unspeakable Unspeakable, and I had to submit mine to Kingsley.” Most Aurors didn’t work with an Unspeakable like Harry did with Draco, but they made an excellent pair.

“And then we came home, shagged, and went to bed.”

Harry’s stomach grumbled. “Skipped dinner again.”

“Tea?”

“God, yes.” Harry rolled over and got out of bed. He looked down and wondered why he had a pair of boxer briefs on. “The hell…?” Something didn’t quite feel right. Harry closed his eyes and thought about the night before, not recalling the whole of the evening.

“Hrm?”

“Nothing.” Harry shrugged and joined Draco on the other side of the bed. He leaned down and kissed Draco on the forehead. “Weird or not, was a good night.” 

“Mm.” Draco sipped his tea.

“Did I get into the Firewhisky?”

“No.”

“Did I get pissed at all?”

“Not that I’m aware.” Draco sipped his tea; his lips quirked. “However, you might warn me next time you decide you’re going to act like a sex worker.”

“Before I what?” Harry tried for indignant, but he had no ground to stand on. 

“Potter, I don’t mind trying new things, but, honestly, I prefer our usual… arrangement.”

“And what’s that? Boring?”

“I never said that, Potter—”

“But you didn’t _not _say it.”__

__Draco looked like he wanted to sigh. “It’s fine, Potter. Don’t look like a wet flannel. It’s fine.”_ _

__Draco sounded reassuring enough, but Harry was still slightly confused. As if he had done everything in his 'dream' but he wasn’t himself. Not that he didn’t want Draco, he did, but he wasn’t typically so… handsy and demanding. They had a good rhythm. Harry decided it didn’t warrant further thought. He needed to get ready for work, and he smelled like sex and … sweets? He frowned. Something wasn’t right at all._ _

____

+++++

“Damn it, Potter, bind its legs!” Draco shouted.

“I’m trying!” Harry tried to pry the giant’s fingers from around his body; he couldn’t move. Trapped. Pain shuddered through him. He tried to wriggle free of the green fingers, but they just got tighter. The instinct to panic hung heavy in his head and heart. Then he heard something through a massive roar. “Hang on. I’m trying something else.” He had never been very good at wandless magic, but he needed it to happen now. Needed it so badly he hurt. He cleared his mind of the pain, of Draco’s voice in the background like a white noise, and concentrated. 

_“Potter! Do something!”_

Harry let Draco’s voice go. 

He felt a tickle in his fingertips. It ran up his arms, into his shoulders and back. The hold on him tightened. Harry shouted for Draco. Then they tipped, fell, crashing to the ground like a Stunned giant.

“Draco, help me,” Harry yelled. It felt like the world was so noisy nothing could get through. Harry couldn't remember how the giant had got hold of him. It was a strange feeling, not remembering his own actions. It felt like he was going mad. 

Draco approached and pried the giant’s fingers loose enough for Harry to get out. Harry had no idea how long the binding spell would hold, but he hoped for more than a few minutes. He shook his head. “Damn. How did that happen?”

 

“You weren’t paying attention to the reports. You rushed in before all of the details were clear.”

“I don’t remember.” Harry rubbed his forehead. “I just remember the car, the train, and the brooms to here. I heard the report as it was coming in through the Floo. Wait… Draco, what’s going on? This is weird.”

“I don’t know, Potter. We’ll work it out.” Draco brushed Harry’s hand like a feather. Before Harry could clasp it, it was gone. 

“Maybe I need to see a Healer,” Harry said, wrapping his arm around his midsection.

“What hurts?”

Harry frowned, then checked if anything _was_ wrong. “Nothing.”

“Are you certain? You’re holding your ribs,” Draco said.

“Yeah. I’m ’right.”

Draco nodded. “Perhaps you should see a Healer.”

“Nah. Let’s get this lug back to the Forbidden Fore—Oh. My wand.”

“I’ll fix it later. Head back to headquarters. I’ll finish up here.”

Harry nodded, “But—”

“Potter, you just got crushed by a giant. Get some rest.”

“Yeah. See you at home.” Harry put the two pieces of his wand back in his robes and began walking back to the castle to Floo to the Ministry. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was off. Maybe he was going mad. He had no recollection of rushing an angry giant. He shook his head. Perhaps he was getting burned out. He and Draco had been working together for long enough now that all their cases seemed to be the ones with immediate danger to the public or in violation of the International Statute of Secrecy. Maybe Harry had just got tired of all the rubbish dealing with these cases. Perhaps he needed a holiday. He shook his head again. He’d work it out. Somehow. 

Harry wandered out of the clearing and saw his favourite half-giant. Hagrid waved, a huge steak covering his eye. “Harry! Good ter see ya!”

“You, too, Hagrid. Sorry. Can’t chat. Need to get back to the Ministry.”

“Okay, Harry.” Hagrid sounded disappointed, but he didn’t press.

Discombobulated, Harry began to run. He didn’t stop until he reached Professor McGonagall’s office.

+++++

It was pissing down outside. Harry crouched under his Invisibility Cloak. Draco waited at the end of the alley for the bloke they expected to show. The report they had received indicated the wizard had kidnapped a young girl from the edge of Diagon Alley. She'd ended up lost in Knockturn Alley. The wizard they were waiting for was the one who'd 'taken' her. That man was one that Harry wished he could bind and use a few of the nastier spells he knew on him. A bastard twice her height and size had kidnapped her. He was known to the Ministry because of his pattern: kidnapping younger girls with dark hair, petite, and skinny. This one was eight stone and petite. Dark-ish hair, no identifying marks that had been shared with Harry or Draco. Llewellyn Palmer had already taken three witches that they knew about. After he was done with them, he killed them. It was never pretty. The last crime scene Harry had been to with his signature had been gruesome. Blood had coated most of the derelict room. The smell of entrails had permeated Harry's senses.

Most witches and wizards didn’t carry Muggle IDs. There was a spell that kept track of them, if they were registered through the Ministry. But this girl, Cressida Wiltshire, had changed since her registry. She had moved to Wales after leaving Hogwarts and lost five stone. They had only basic details from her family and an old photo of her from Hogwarts, which didn’t even look like her any more. Harry and Draco had turned her cottage over, looking for recent photos, any trace of who she might be. They came up short; she was a ghost. 

Light sliced through the dark alley. Harry watched the pub. Llewellyn Palmer was a tall, dark-skinned wizard. He was in his thirties and had a Muggle tattoo on his face: the eye of Horus. Harry watched the door close and squinted into the darkness. He closed in on the bloke exiting to get a better look at his face. _Damn. Not him._ He returned to his position, stalking his prey, much like the wizard they were after had done.

Rain slammed down on the cobbles. He couldn’t signal Draco. He whistled once, when the wizard had passed, but he barely heard it himself. Harry turned and looked towards the entrance of the alley. Draco waited, dressed like a Muggle rent boy at the entrance of Knockturn Alley. Two hours had gone. Harry thought the tip was bogus, that this Llewellyn wasn’t at the pub. The waiting tested his patience. He wanted to burst through the door and arrest the bloke. His clothes were soaked through, his feet and hands like ice. If he used too many spells to hide himself, Llewellyn would find him. The bloke could “smell” magic in the air, according to the report they received. Rain wouldn’t stop him from sniffing out Harry in a heartbeat, if he approached, so Harry gripped his wand tighter and waited. 

Again, the light sliced into the darkness. A tall, skinny wizard with a hood stepped out and the door closed behind him. The bloke pulled a cigarette from his pocket and put it between his lips. There had also been burns on the other victims. Like cigarettes. When the wizard snapped his fingers at the end and it sparked, Harry saw the tattoo. It covered the left side of his face. _Got you!_

“Llewellyn Palmer! Don’t move!” Harry commanded. “Put your wand on the ground and take five steps back.”

The tip of the cigarette flared and smoke drifted up. The grin underneath the flare was evil. It made Harry think of nightmares and death. 

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” Llewellyn asked, his teeth silver in the backlight of the cigarette. “You’re alone.”

Harry grinned. “Hardly. Now drop the wand and step back! Final warning.”

A flash of blue shot towards Harry. He jumped to the side, and rolled out of the way. His Cloak fell off. He stood and fired a binding spell. It missed. Laughter like treacle and ashes filled the air. “I know every move you’re going to make, Potter. You should’ve never come alone.”

“Funny, that. ‘Cause I didn’t. Now!”

A brilliant flash of light filled the alley. Fire roared towards Llewellyn. Harry cast a stronger binding spell. The chains flew from nothing and landed with a clink on the cobblestones. “Give up now, and you won’t go to Azkaban.”

“Hahaha. Auror Potter, you’re feckless. Not even your partner can get me.”

Draco dropped his umbrella and held his wand out. “Palmer, get rid of the wand.”

Llewellyn grinned like a knife. “Make me, Malfoy. I made you hours ago.”

Draco widened his stance and closed his eyes. Harry pointed his wand and side-stepped around Llewellyn. Draco was almost ready. Harry just had to be in the right position. Llewellyn was no match for the pair of them, Harry hoped.

Draco cast his spell. No words, just a flare, brighter than Fiendfyre, ripped down the alleyway. Harry threw up a shield, held it, then rotated his wrist, casting his own spell. The words flew out. Llewellyn stood, watching the wall of lightning head for him. He turned. Harry waited behind him. Then Harry cast his own spell. Llewellyn tried to shield himself, but he wasn’t fast enough. The force of the stunning spell that Draco had cast shook him. He twitched, fell. A groan came from the ground. Harry bound Llewellyn from behind with a set of chains. The wizard felt like a dead body after rigor mortis had set in. Harry manipulated the chains and the man’s wrists as best he could. Then he shackled his ankles. The stunning spell would last until they got Llewellyn back to the Ministry. Draco’s stunning spells were very strong, some Unspeakable work that Harry had never taken the time to learn. It was part of the reason they had been partnered. Harry could duel, but Llewellyn hadn't wanted to duel him; he wanted to kill him. Draco, however, knew things that Harry only imagined possible. Stunning spells, Disorienting spells, Transfigurations... He had trained for years in the proficiency of Unspeakable magic. Harry knew things Draco didn’t know, and the duelling spells were useful one-on-one, not with partners subduing a target. 

Harry looked at Draco. “You really have to teach me that one.”

“Proprietary spell, Potter.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get him up and into interrogation.”

Draco nodded. Harry Levitated Llewellyn while Draco kept watch. They had been lucky. Llewellyn didn’t have help. Pure luck. 

“Think he’ll talk?” Harry asked, following the board-like body. 

“No. But there are other ways to find the girl.”

Harry nodded. There were tracing spells, a host of Unspeakable wandwork that could find someone lost. In the previous three cases, they hadn't been contacted immediately. This time, they had a way to get to the witch.

“Potter, doesn’t this seem strange to you at all?”

“Eh? Seems like we just caught a serial rapist-murderer.”

“He barely fought back,” Draco said. He looked at Harry. “He should’ve fought harder.” 

Harry frowned. “I reckon, but he didn’t exactly give up, either.”

“No... This just seems... Never mind.”

“But—” Harry realised that he wouldn’t be able to get any more from Draco.

+++++

“Palmer, we’ve used locator charms on your wand, traced your steps, and found Cressida. She told us everything that happened.”

“Fuck you, Malfoy!” he growled.

Draco rolled his shoulder. “No, thank you.” He cleared his throat. “You’re going before the Wizengamot in the morning. Do you need a solicitor?”

“Bugger off. I’m not answering any of your questions.”

“Fine. But not saying anything harms your defence just as much,” Harry said. “Cressida identified you. You held her in the basement of your parents’ house. You left a brand, by _your wand_ , on her leg. If you explain the circumstances, we might be able to help you before the court.”

“Fuck you, too, Potter. This is all your fault.”

Harry looked at Llewellyn like a statue. “My fault?”

“Yeah, if—” Llewellyn seized. He reached for his throat, but the chains holding him made it impossible. He tried to cough, but gurgling sounds came. 

“Damn it.” Harry pulled Llewellyn's head back and checked his throat. “Nothing there,” Harry said.

“Call a Healer!” Draco yelled to the two-way glass. 

The choking continued. Unchaining him was unwise, but Harry needed him on his back, on the floor. 

He released the hold, pulling the man to the floor, then tilted the man’s head back. “He's choking on something.”

“Do it, Potter.”

Harry cleared Llewellyn's airway and exhaled into his mouth. Llewellyn reached for his throat, clawing at the skin with his nails. Red lines followed each swipe. Harry started compressions. _One and two and three and four..._ Harry counted, but still nothing showed in his airway. 

A knock came at the door. “Healer!” Harry heard Susan Bones yell.

Draco opened the door. Harry continued compressions. “He’s choking on something, but there’s nothing in his throat.”

“Stop, Harry, I’ll take over.”

“But what if he—”

Susan pulled her wand. “I’ve got this.”

Harry nodded and stood, taking a few steps away.

“He can’t die,” Harry said.

“Harry, shut it; let me work.”

She cast spell after spell, but nothing worked. It was like he was drowning, without the water. Harry wanted to help, but he knew he couldn’t do anything. He had basic field medical training that he did on himself when he got into a scrape he couldn’t get out of. This was different.

“Damn it!” Susan said, then slammed her fist on Llewellyn's chest.

The room felt quiet, like someone had stolen Harry’s hearing. He moved to Draco’s side and slipped his hand into Draco’s. Draco clasped his hand back. Harry wasn’t scared, just appalled by watching the man choke, with no end, no air.

There was a tattered inhalation, then a guttural sound, one that Harry had heard enough times to know it was the end. Susan couldn’t save Llewellyn. Harry couldn’t save Llewellyn. He sighed and released Draco’s hand. 

“Susan, he’s gone...” Harry approached her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Must have been some kind of spell, in case he got pinched.”

“No... this is something... I can’t explain it.” She stood. “Harry, Draco, I’m sorry. I did everything I could.”

“It’s not your fault, Susan,” Harry said, squeezing her arm. 

She nodded. “Get him to autopsy as soon as possible.”

Harry agreed. He wanted to know how the bloke had choked on... air.

+++++

Harry sipped his pint. Draco had a Firewhisky and some new snack that the pub was trying that smelled like curry and shit. Harry shook his head. No way was he going to try the crisps.

“Hey... did you finish the report for your old pal?”

Draco glared, then it softened. “Yeah. Your report was rubbish, as always.”

Harry didn’t smile or try to hide his annoyance. “Just because I don’t write novels for each one, doesn’t make them rubbish. You always add more details than Kingsley asks for.”

Draco snorted. “Because I’m thorough, Potter.”

Harry laughed. Yes, Draco was, in more than one way. The blowjob in the office before they had been called out, prime example. “Yeah, I know. But you didn’t have to spend three hours on it. We could’ve had our drinks and been home by now.”

Harry shivered. Something felt off. He looked around the pub. At the bar, there were two blokes three sheets to the wind. A waifish girl in the corner, writing in an ugly journal, who seemed familiar. A hen night for some lass.

“Potter?”

“Yeah?” He asked, looking the opposite direction.

“What’s wrong?”

“I... someone’s watching us. But I can’t work out who.” Harry squinted. “Just a feeling.”

Draco’s gaze followed Harry’s. “No one’s there.”

“Yeah, I know, but I can’t shake this feeling in my bones.”

“Paranoid?” Draco asked.

“No. Just... feel like I have a target on my back.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Exactly.”

“Potter, you’re famous, for a lot of reasons. People will stare. Let them.”

Draco wasn’t being unreasonable. Harry knew that often if they were in Diagon Alley, he became a figure of unwanted attention. But going to Muggle pubs... he didn’t typically have the feeling of being watched like a hawk ready to snatch its prey. “Not so much in Muggle pubs.”

Draco frowned. He followed Harry’s scattered gaze again. “I wouldn’t fret about it.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I know... might be looking at you anyway. You dress funny for the Muggles.”

Draco quirked a smile.

“Not everyone wears a waistcoat, pocket watch, and proper suit to a pub like this.”

“I’m abreast of the current fashions, Potter. Just because you prefer jeans and a T-shirt, well, that doesn’t mean I’m out of place.”

“You look like a _banker_.”

“Really? Is it all bad?”

Harry shook his head. “No. You look... good,” he admitted. Though more than _good_ ran through Harry’s mind: fuckable, delicious; any adjective that generally meant 'I want to fuck you'. Not that that was the only reason Harry fancied Draco. He was a decent sort, with a mind like a bloody scalpel at times: sharp and precise. He wasn’t emotional, in comparison to Harry. Draco was a pragmatist. 

Harry stopped scanning the pub for whatever or whoever he thought watched him and looked at Draco. He wore a frown. 

“Potter, I think you’re right. Someone _is_ watching.”

“Okay, why do you think that?”

“Same feeling you got, I imagine. But they’re watching _us_.”

Harry looked around again. “Let’s go home.”

“Mm.” Draco stood and started to pull Harry’s chair out for him, like he did at home, but Harry shot him a look. “Yes, I know.” Draco put his hands up and stepped away.

Harry smiled. The thought was nice, but he still wasn’t comfortable with Draco treating him like he might do a woman, if he weren’t gay. Harry preferred to be in control of his own functions when it came to relationships. He had no doubt that Draco had been taught to be that way by Narcissa. “I’m driving. You still haven’t quite worked out the clutch yet.”

“I have, Potter, but if you insist.”

“I do.” Harry beamed. The irony was that Harry had learned most of what he knew about relationships by watching Hermione’s parents and Ron’s parents, and secretly liked being _in charge_ of things. Not always, but there were times when it seemed fitting. He thought Draco appreciated the ebb and flow of their arrangement. One day, Harry planned to ask Draco to marry him - once he found an appropriate piece that wouldn't make Draco think he was ‘the girl’, got Narcissa’s blessing, and found an opportunity to ask.

There was plenty of time for that. Harry followed Draco to the car, and hit the fob to unlock it as they approached. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Instead of letting it bother him, he drove them home.

+++++

_“In other news, the Wizengamot has sentenced Llewellyn Palmer posthumously...”_ Harry looked at Draco over the sports section of the paper. _“The young wizard took credit for three recent incidents of...”_ Draco frowned, but didn’t look up. He was reading the politics section and listening to the Wireless. _“Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are responsible for the conviction...”_

“You alright?”

Draco’s frown deepened. 

“Draco?”

“Mm?”

“Are you alright?”

He set his tea down. “Oh, yes. Of course. Something about this article doesn’t seem right. It has more details than the Wireless, but neither of our Department Heads commented on what happened.”

“Kingsley doesn’t generally comment on on-going investigations and your boss is the most Unspeakable Unspeakable I’ve ever met.”

Draco laughed. “He is, that.”

“I’m not fussed with them not commenting. _We_ commented. That’s enough for the public. We’ve been partners for twenty years, now.”

 

“Mm. Still... you’d think that an uptick in strange events would warrant more than just a comment from us.”

“Perhaps they trust us.” Harry smiled. He knew Kingsley trusted him. Even with his flaws. And poor paperwork. And abysmal sense of dress at times. Thing was, they got the job done, and Draco liked the devil in the details. Harry dictated, let Draco handle the paperwork, and all was good at the end of the day. Or the end of the assignment. 

“Potter, don’t go back to that pub. I need to investigate.”

“That’s wholly unnecessary.”

“I’m asking you. _Please_.”

Harry looked at Draco. He didn’t plead with Harry about much. Sex, on a rare occasion, but never about something as silly as going to a pub. 

“Alright. I won’t go back.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no worries.”

+++++

The gloaming overtook Harry’s senses. He squinted into the night and his feet moved of their own accord. He didn’t know where he was going. Everything seemed wrong, but he continued to follow his feet. It was Muggle London. The lights came to life one at a time. Finally, everything became clear.

Harry stopped and looked up. The name of the pub was familiar, but Harry had no idea how he had got there. In the distance, he heard his mobile ringing. Draco’s ringtone. 

He walked up the steps and went inside. Beer and spirits filled his nostrils. There were too many people inside. He didn’t know who he was looking for. But he went and ordered a pint, gave the barman a tenner, and sat down. 

He took a sip of his pint and looked around. No one seemed familiar. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. It was surreal. The kind of feeling that accompanied not being able to control oneself. Harry frowned. He couldn’t work out what was wrong, but something was. 

Setting down his pint, he focussed on the men and women. There was a girl sitting nearby; she had a journal out in front of her, writing like a Firebolt drove her hand. She seemed familiar, but not like the pub. She was different. He couldn’t place her. _Ministry?_ Harry shook his head. He stood up, looking at her. As he walked towards her, he ran into something. 

“Oh, sorry, mate!” Harry said, and looked up.

He focussed. Blond hair, tall, lithe... he smiled. “Draco?”

“Potter,” he said, his expression inscrutable. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to ask you the same, Potter.”

Harry looked around and the girl was gone. He frowned. “I don’t know.”

Draco touched his arm. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

“Y-yeah. Okay.” He followed Draco. “Draco, what’s going on?”

“If I knew, Potter, I wouldn’t be here with you right now.”

“That’s not... Draco...”

Draco sighed. “Potter, I _think_ you’ve been—”

Harry stopped and looked at Draco. Few words were his thing, but _not_ finishing a thought never happened. 

“You think I’ve been what...?”

“I don’t know... It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t recall what I needed to say.” He frowned. “Potter... how long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. I remember wandering around. I left the house. You were still doing the last report. And I ended up here.”

“You got up. Why?” Draco didn’t sound angry, more inquisitive, like interrogating a suspect.

“The girl. She had this journal in front of her... I was going to talk to her.”

“Did you recognise her?”

“Y— Yeah, I did. But I can’t remember anything. It’s like someone hit me with an Imperius curse and then stopped. But _not_ that.”

Draco looked around, eyes darting from side to side. “Alright, let’s just go. Do not leave the house without me. Understand?”

“Yeah. But why not?”

“I need to investigate further. This is something I specialise in.”

+++++

“Hello, Harry,” the girl said.

Harry frowned. Then he smiled. “Cressida. How are you?”

She took hold of the hem of her top and swayed. Smiling. There was a book in her other hand. It looked like a tumour. Malignant and nasty. Something that a dragon might have been sick on.

“Come this way.” She held out her hand, and Harry followed. Something in the back of his mind told him to stop. He couldn’t help reaching out to take Cressida’s extended hand. There was a compulsion he couldn’t fight, something drawing him to the girl. Woman. She wasn’t a girl, now that he looked closer at her. She had long, dark hair. Pale skin. She was a bit skinny, but there was something about her face that was pleasant. Harry frowned. He couldn’t work out why he was here with this woman or how he knew her. He knew nothing and everything about her. Somehow. They’d never met, not that he could remember.

“Har-ry…” she said in a sing-song tone.

He snapped back to reality. He knew she fancied plums for breakfast and green tea with biscuits. He knew she fancied being bitten on the neck. It didn’t turn her on, but she fancied it anyway. He frowned, letting the knowledge roll around his mind like a ball on a snooker table. “Yeah, I’m coming.” He took her hand and followed along.

“Tea?”

“Y-yeah, I wouldn’t mind a cuppa.”

“D’you take sugar?”

Harry thought she should know that but ignored it. “No. Just milk.” He watched her move, clutching the book like it was her heart pulled from her own chest.

“Have a seat, silly.”

Harry obeyed. “How’ve you been?” The sofa was uncomfortable, springs punching him in the arse every time he shifted. Faded wallpaper covered the walls of the sitting room. It smelled like cigarettes and tea. He had no idea where he was. Something niggled in the back of his mind about how this was all wrong; he shouldn’t be here. Someone was missing. Someone important. 

“Oh, Harry. I’m brilliant, now that you’re here.”

“Yeah? That’s good. Did you...? Wait. Sorry. I can’t remember what I was going to ask. Cressida?”

She turned and looked at him. “I don’t like green tea.”

“I know, Harry. You like Lady Grey. Don’t fret. I’m making a pot just for you.”

“Really? That’s brilliant.” Harry tried to frown, but his lips turned up instead.

She smiled in return. “I’m glad you came round. You should’ve rung before, though. I wasn’t entirely prepared.”

“Oh, sorry.” He pulled his mobile out of his pocket. There were missed calls and text messages, but the name was blurry, like trying to read through a fish bowl. “I can go, if you’d like.”

She sashayed over. “Of course not. I wanted you here.” She held the journal out. It looked even more malignant close up. She opened the pages towards the back and showed him. “See? I wrote it all down. And it happened. Just like everything else I wrote in here.”

The words were scribbled in tight handwriting. He couldn’t make it out. “Have we... met before?”

“Yes. You and Draco saved me from Llewellyn Palmer. Remember?”

Harry tried to frown again, but his face did the opposite. “Oh, yeah. He died in custody.”

“I know. I took care of that. You see, I wanted to meet you, after I saw you and Draco Malfoy at the pub. Llewellyn... he was an awful boyfriend.” She smiled, and it reminded him of the same silver grin Llewellyn had used. How he knew that, he didn’t know. “He had a thing for offing girls, after raping them.”

_Wait, I know this..._

“You... made us capture him?”

“Yes.”

“And the troll at Hogwarts, and you shagging Draco Malfoy a few days ago. Remember? You were in his workshop and he was working on a wand?”

 _Oh, God!_ The warmth in Harry’s face turned to ice. “So... you made me rape Draco?”

“No... no... not rape. I just... wrote how it would happen. This journal is brilliant. You see, everything I write in it, it happens. And I like a good story.”

“Story! My bloody life isn’t a story for you to play with!” Harry shouted, starting to get his senses back. “I never asked for any of this!”

“Harry, I wanted you..." she said, running her hand up his thigh. "The only way I could make it happen... writing it down. Making it a story. You’re supposed to be doting on me right now, not shouting at me. You’ll forget everything, anyway. I’ll make sure of that. I just wanted you for one night. I had to test it first. The salesman said I could make anything happen.”

Harry stood. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Tsk. You don’t have any choice, I’m afraid. Sit back down.”

His legs gave out and he sat down. 

She strode from the other side of the coffee table and straddled him. His hands went to rest on her hips. 

“Now, that’s better. Kiss m—”

An explosion ripped through the room. Harry stood, knocking Cressida to the floor, and pulled his wand. Or thought he had, but it wasn’t in his pocket. Damn. Voices and shouting came through the confusion. 

“Harry!” 

That voice he recognised. 

“Draco?”

“Harry! Are you alright?”

He shook his head, feeling the cobwebs lift. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. The journal. Take it before she can write anything else in it.”

“What?”

“Just do it!” 

Draco fumbled around the floor, looking for Cressida’s journal. She had scrambled to the corner, clutching the disgusting-looking thing like a lifeline.

“Cressida Wiltshire, drop it. You’re under arrest for unlawful imprisonment, mind control, and anything else I decide to charge you with!”

“No, no, no!” she shouted. “This isn’t supposed to happen. You’re supposed to be at the Ministry doing paperwork!”

“Sorry, love. Potter’s _mine_.”

“No!” she began to cry. “It’s not... no. This can’t be right.”

Draco laughed. “I said drop it, or I’ll take it from you. And I don’t think you want me to do that.”

Tears streamed down her face. She clutched the journal closer, as if that were possible. 

Harry’s world went black.

+++++

Harry woke up with a terrible headache. He looked round, noticing he was in the office, and wondered what was going on. The last few hours were blank. “Draco?” He trembled, trying to stand; his legs were wonky.

“I’m here, Potter.”

“Oh, thank fuck. Okay, my head is pounding like a bloody drum. I don’t remember anything since I left the office. Please tell me you know what happened.”

“Mm. I do. Here, drink this. You’ll remember some of it.”

“Do I want to?”

Draco smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Perhaps it’s better that you do, rather than should.”

Harry accepted the container from Draco and downed the contents. It tasted like squash, but Harry knew there was more to it than that. He closed his eyes and images like a reel-to-reel flooded his mind. He felt sick. “I think I might be sick...”

Draco brought over a rubbish bin. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Draco’s lips quirked. “Remembering now?”

“A little.”

“Come with me.”

Harry followed Draco to the interrogation room and looked through that glass. His face heated up, his hands balled up. 

“What happened?” Harry demanded. He looked at the pitiful, pale girl inside the interview room and tried not to be sick. He still didn’t know the whole story. He just knew that he had almost shagged that girl, even though he didn’t want to. What made him angriest was how much she looked like him as a teenager. Generally malnourished and unkempt. Her clothes were too big and she looked younger than she was. 

“She confessed to everything.” Draco touched Harry’s arm. “It’s over.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. The journal, all of the things she made you do. All of it.”

“Why?”

“Because, I threatened to kill her, hide her body in a loch, and never look back if she didn’t.”

Harry gaped. “You did not.”

Draco gave him a look. “Of course I did. Anyway, it’s over. Just remember that. She can’t hurt either of us again.”

“Mm.” Harry looked at the girl - Cressida - once more. “What was real?”

“We are. That’s all that matters.” Draco smiled, a smile like Harry had never seen.

[](http://www.marchais-walker.com/artwork/HD02.jpg)  
[](http://www.marchais-walker.com/artwork/HD01.jpg)

Artwork by the lovely: [mad1492](https://mad1492.tumblr.com/)


End file.
